as the only individual, who,
by fortunate concurrences, had obtained a name among affluent foreigners,
and who was at all in demand with that class of travellers. He was not
long in presenting himself in the public room of the inn--a hale, florid,
muscular man of sixty, with every appearance of permanent health and
vigor, but with a slight and nearly imperceptible difficulty of breathing.

"Thou art Pierre Dumont?" observed the baron, studying the open
physiognomy and well-set frame of the Valaisan, with satisfaction. "Thou
hast been mentioned by more than one traveller in his book."

The stout mountaineer raised himself in pride, and endeavored to
acknowledge the compliment in the manner of his well-meant but rude
courtesy; for refinement did not then extend its finesse and its deceit
among the glens of Switzerland.

"They have done me honor, Monsieur," he said: "it has been my good fortune
to cross the Col with many brave gentlemen and fair ladies--and in two
instances with princes." (Though a sturdy republican, Pierre was not
insensible to worldly rank.) "The pious monks know me well; and they who
enter the convent are not the worse received for being my companions. I
shall be glad to lead so fair a party from our cold valley into the sunny
glens of Italy, for, if the truth must be spoken, nature has placed us on
the wrong side of the mountain for our comfort, though we have our
advantage over those who live even in Turin and Milan, in matters of
greater importance."

"What can be the superiority of a Valaisan over the Lombard, or the
Piedmontese?" demanded the Signor Grimaldi quickly, like a man who was
curious to hear the reply. "A traveller should seek all kind of knowledge,
and I take this to be a newly-discovered fact."

"Liberty, Signore! We are our own masters; we have been so since the day
when our fathers sacked the castles of the barons, and compelled their
tyrants to become their equals. I think of this each time I reach the warm
plains of Italy, and return to my cottage a more contented man, for the
reflection."

"Spoken like a Swiss, though it is uttered by an ally of the cantons!"
cried Melchior de Willading, heartily. "This is the spirit, Gaetano, which
sustains our mountaineers, and renders them more happy amid their frosts
and rocks, than thy Genoese on his warm and glowing bay."

"The word liberty, Melchior, is more used than understood, and as much
abused as used;" returned the Signor Grimal